


Run To Ground

by Suzie_Shooter



Series: Run To Ground [1]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-25
Updated: 2012-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-31 17:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex is running for his life. Sooner or later they'll send someone who knows where he's likely to run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run To Ground

It felt like he'd been running for weeks. 

The first one to come after him he'd managed to push off a bridge. Not the most effective disposal in the world, if not for the boat that had hit him seconds later. 

The second had met an abrupt end when Alex had managed to flip him through a – closed – second storey window.

The third – the third had almost got him. Alex could feel the pain in his side even now as he ran through the darkened streets, from the bullet that had grazed him. A struggle had ensued, ending in a shot, and the inadvertent death of his attacker. He wondered if he was lucky, or just very _unlucky_ to be around.

He had the gun now, although only one bullet remained.

It was raining, a steady, relentless cold rain that was chilling him to the bone and sapping the last of his strength. The wound in his side was a constant dull throb, and his lungs were burning with the effort of keeping him upright.

Had to keep moving.

Knew there would be a fourth. Knew they would keep coming, until one of them got lucky. They didn't even have to beat him, Alex recognised distantly, they just had to exhaust him.

They almost had.

He turned a corner, and sighed with the weary realisation that it was a dead end. Prepared to retrace his steps, fighting the temptation to give up, to just collapse in the street and wait for the end.

It was then he heard the footsteps. 

He turned, back to the wall, gun held out in front of him, trying to see through the rain. 

A figure stepped out, under the weak light of a streetlamp. A long coat, and a familiar silhouette. He blinked the rain out of his eyes, and knew it was over.

"Should have known they'd send you." His voice was tired, resigned. But the gun was steady.

The figure tilted his head slightly, but said nothing. Stepped closer, slowly, consideringly.

"You make a good target under that light, Yassen," Alex called out, final flare of defiance.

"You won’t shoot me." The reply quiet and utterly confident.

Alex sighed, recognising the truth in it. Hand shaking now, with cold and exhaustion – he hoped Yassen didn’t think it was fear – Alex raised the gun to his own temple. 

"I won’t go back there Yassen," he croaked. "I'd rather die."

In the intervening seconds, Yassen had moved closer, was almost within arm's reach. Alex could see his face now, his cold gaze locked on Alex's eyes.

"The coward's way out, Alex."

"I don’t care."

Yassen shook his head, with a slight smile. "You won’t do it."

"You think?" 

"I know."

They stared at each other, for a long drawn out moment, then Alex sagged, dropping his arm, letting Yassen take the gun away, tuck it into the back of his own trousers. 

What he did next made no sense to Alex's worn out mind, but at the same time he was too exhausted to object. 

Yassen closed the final step remaining between them, and folded Alex into his arms. He was warm, and – Alex's mind registered somewhat resentfully – dry. Surrendering, Alex leaned against Yassen's chest, too numb to think of a reason not to. 

"So what happens now?" he mumbled eventually, the borrowed warmth restoring him slightly.

"Now? You're safe now, Alex." 

Alex looked up then, confusion written across his face. "What do you mean, safe? You're just going to take me right back to – " he tailed off, irritated at the faint look of amusement on Yassen's face. "What?"

"You failed to ask yourself a key question." Yassen's lips twitched, as if he was trying not to laugh. "Who I was working for."

"But you – you're a – "

"I'll work for whoever pays me." Yassen shrugged, definitely smiling now. "Even the English government."

Alex's face was a study. "They'd never hire _you_."

"Not officially maybe. But they wanted you found, and fast. Or more to the point, first. Apparently they considered me most likely to manage it."

Alex took this in, then pulled back in a sudden flare of temper as he took in the implications. "You _bastard_! Why didn't you say so? I could have shot you. I nearly shot _myself_!" 

He slapped Yassen hard on the chest, and the Russian laughed at him, capturing his hands and pulling him off balance, wrapping forceful arms around him again.

"You wouldn’t have done either of those things."

"How do _you_ know?"

"I know you Alex. Possibly better than you do yourself."

"I don’t believe that," Alex muttered uncomfortably.

Yassen shrugged. "You may not want to. That's another thing."

Alex struggled irritably. "Let me go."

"No."

Alex stopped wriggling, mostly out of surprise. "What do you mean, no?" 

"I mean – no. I don’t want to let you go. I rather like having you like this." Yassen smirked as Alex redoubled his efforts to pull out of his arms, although the fact he'd started laughing rather spoiled the impression of indignation.

After a while Alex gave up, shaking his head. "You're mad."

"Maybe." Yassen smoothed a strand of wet hair off Alex's face and smiled. "Are you warmer yet?"

Alex realised he was, and glared. 

"Good." 

"I hate you. You know that?"

"Wouldn’t have it any other way." 

"Are you going to let me go now?"

"No."

"Because you think I don’t want you to?" Alex hazarded.

"Because I know you don’t want me to."

"Have I ever told you you're _really_ irritating?"

"I don’t think so. Are you likely to?" Yassen asked politely and Alex growled.

"Alex." Yassen looked into his eyes, suddenly serious. "Right now you're wet, cold, tired and hurting. Stop fighting me, you're wasting energy."

"But I'm not fighting – " Alex frowned, realising what Yassen meant. He was rigid with tension and mistrust. His instinct had always been to refuse comfort, to push it away. There'd always been so little of it in the first place. He let out a slow, sighing breath. 

Yassen drew him closer, and he didn’t resist. This time he leaned into Yassen's embrace, allowing himself to enjoy the other man's warmth. 

He wondered, later, why he wasn't more surprised when Yassen kissed him. But the fact remained that when the Russian bent and captured his mouth, it felt only like he'd been waiting for it to happen.

The warm lips made him suddenly aware of just how cold his own skin was, and the hot flicker of Yassen's tongue against his own sent a shiver through him that had nothing to do with the cold.

With their arms wrapped around each other, he took advantage of the embrace to retrieve his gun from Yassen's waistband, transferring it to his own. 

Yassen let him, smiling against Alex's lips, and Alex had the sneaking suspicion it was a smile of approval.

When the first lingering, rain streaked kiss was over, Yassen held him close and whispered in his ear.

"You asked me earlier what happened next. Will you let me decide that for you?"

Alex looked up at him, and felt a wave of tiredness wash over him. The idea of letting someone else take complete charge of him had never felt quite so appealing. 

He nodded, slowly, and with the decision felt a little of the despair in him slip away, to be replaced with a nervous anticipation.

Before Yassen could speak though, they both caught the noise of another person creeping into the alleyway behind them.

Startled, Alex met Yassen's eyes. "If they didn’t send _you_ …"

He let the thought tail off, not needing to finish it.

\--

The fourth assassin had expected to find a wounded and exhausted nineteen year old boy trapped alone in the alley. What he hadn't expected was to be looking down the barrel of not one but two guns, held unwaveringly beneath matching implacable stares. 

Only one gun sounded, the shot echoing off the brick walls, but then, only one needed to.

A minute later, two figures stepped out of the alley, over the dark shape of something lying in the shadows, and disappeared together into the rain.

\--


End file.
